


Rats in the Walls

by Stomiidae



Series: The Drabble/Short Story Series [3]
Category: Johnny the Homicidal Maniac
Genre: Canon Compliant, Doesn't matter which wall is painted, Explains why "the wall" never seems to be on one particular floor, Gen, Johnny's walls are all gateways, M/M, Nny just has favorite ones, trapped in the dark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-05
Updated: 2015-01-24
Packaged: 2018-03-05 14:58:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3124409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stomiidae/pseuds/Stomiidae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He didn't need to sleep but every passing moment made him feel scattered, lethargic, it took so much effort to just pull himself up to move when It did.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. New Arrival

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lemaisondefous](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Lemaisondefous).



 

Edgar heard the lazy and slightly agitated thump-and-swish of the basement monster’s limbs across the floor. He’d learned the edges of the room to better avoid it. Whatever that thing came into contact with it consumed.

Others would fade in through the walls, some of them wailing and some screaming obscenities. The louder they were the sooner it sucked them up.

Blindly he skimmed the rough wood paneling until he felt himself hit the far corner. He would get through this. He would get to heaven. Edgar slid down to his knees, weary. He didn’t need to sleep but every passing moment made him feel scattered, lethargic, it took so much effort to just pull himself up to move when it did.

It had been awhile since anyone else had come through. The Thing thrashed angrily.

BAM! Edgar heard it hit the wall.

BAM!

BAM!

BAM!

He curled up as small as he could and covered his ears. A rush of air hit him. His eyes had been closed for so long in the dark and before he could open them a loud crash sounded and everything ceased to be.

Drip, drip, dripping. He could hear water. Rough wood scraping his hair. No sliding, snake-like slithering, no reverberating growls or snarls.

A faint sound of a scream called his senses together again.

Drip, drip, dripping.

Time passed. He did not keep track of how long. Could not. A new voice, young and reedy, angry.

Drip, drip, THUMP, someone hit the floor. Edgar identified the scrape of boots and a loud heaving.

“NO! You can’t do this. I hate you!” Fists hit the wall. Anguished screaming reverberating off the walls.

“He can’t hear you.” Edgar rasped.

“Who the fuck?” Boots skidded. Quick footsteps and then something slammed into him, yanked him up and threw him across empty space. He was dead. Why did he feel pain?

“Your blood. It ended up on a wall somehow, somewhere, and so you ended up here.” A fist in his stomach, hands around his neck. Useless. Pointless. No heaven for him. No point.

“Where _the fuck_ am I?”

“We’re still in Nny’s  basement. There’s no way out.”


	2. Chapter 2

Edgar could hear Mmy across the small dark space, feeling at the walls. Every now and then he would curse, or trip and curse as he fell to the floor with a heavy WHUMP.

These were what Edgar counted as their days.

Eventually Jimmy would go quiet, his muttering and searching dimming to the static of their breathing. Edgar considered those their nights, endless stretches of time spent silent and sleepless in the perpetual dark.

“Fuck.” Jimmy passed close by him, heavy boots stomping perilously close to Edgar’s wayward ankle. “FUCK!”

Edgar didn’t say anything. Sometimes they could go ‘days’ without speaking to each other. He scooted closer to what he knew from experience was the center of the room, away from Jimmy’s stomping feet. 

“Not me, you asshole. I’m not like them.” Jimmy snarled. “Don’t you fucking dare treat me like those pieces of shit.”

Edgar sighed quietly. He knew Jimmy would get tired eventually and crumble to the floor in a depressed slump. His foot shifted, the worn tread of his shoe scuffing the floor noisily, Jimmy zoned in on the sound like a shark to blood.

It was amazing how much force a dead person could have when they threw themselves at you. Also amazing was the amount of pain a dead person could feel. Jimmy’s body weight seemed manageable but his wiry frame was a painful mess of sharp points.

“You’re stuck here too. You said we’d never get out, and that means _you_ too.”

He felt Mmy’s forehead press hard against his, heard his breath hissing out from between his teeth.

“You’re just like them,” Jimmy snarled, “ _we’re_ just like them.”

Edgar knew he should just shut up. That Jimmy would wear himself out soon and then things would be quiet again.

“We’re just like the others.”

“He found me by accident.” 

Jimmy went quiet, nails digging into Edgar’s skin.

“He almost said he was sorry.” Edgar rasped. They remained in limbo for what felt like hours Edgar shoved onto his back, Jimmy hunched over him. Eventually Mmy pulled himself up, hands settling around Edgar’s throat like a threat.

“He offered to let me go.” Jimmy’s voice cracked, going from miserable to savage. “He asked more than once for me to leave.”

Edgar reached up and pulled the unstable man down. He didn’t know where the rest of Johnny’s victims had gone but Jimmy was right in a twisted sort of way, they were not like the others. They were still there, in that dark and stagnant place. For a moment he stopped trying to exist by the rhythms of the life he’d known outside of their prison and just held on.

Jimmy was a coil of tension. Edgar raked his nails down his spine, a brief release of his own frustrations and Jimmy shook, stuck in a moment of rage. He understood the feeling of being trapped in a cycle of helplessness. That it could lead to long and dangerous periods of stillness that had at times left Edgar unable to move while with that _thing_. He’d been afraid, hearing it draw nearer and nearer. Dumb luck had narrowly saved him the last time, one of Johnny’s killing sprees leaving enough food to draw it away.

He wasn’t sure how long he and Jimmy stayed that way, but after awhile Edgar turned them until they were laying side by side. Words came out in a low whisper, stories of the rhythms of his former life leading up to the morning he was killed.

When he ran out of things to say he contemplated making up a story. What did it say about his life that he couldn’t think of any interesting tales to tell from memory alone?

“Getting murdered was the most exciting thing to ever happen to you, huh?” Jimmy’s voice was gritty and a bit high. “And least with us he didn’t murder anyone important.”

“What do you think would happen, if he did?” Edgar shifted close enough that the skin of his temple pressed right against Jimmy’s forehead. “He’s killed a lot of people. How does no one notice?”

“That’s the beautiful bit,” Jimmy replied, “he never gets caught and no one ever notices them once they’re gone.” His voice went dreamy and wistful. “He’s like a goddamn force of nature.”

And so Jimmy started to whisper his own story directly into Edgar’s ear. It was set with its own twisted rhythms and rituals involving things that made him somewhat glad the younger man was with him instead of out in the general population. 

He obviously enjoyed telling it if the amusement in his voice and the smile he pressed against Edgar’s cheek was anything to go by.

[]

End?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is the planned ending. I have an idea for continuing this but with Rapture coming up it may be awhile. So if it does come it will be as a sequel.


End file.
